


Fireworks

by madame_d



Category: NSYNC, Popslash
Genre: M/M, dwnoga 2005
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-03
Updated: 2006-01-03
Packaged: 2017-10-19 01:10:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/195228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madame_d/pseuds/madame_d
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The *NSync creation myth.  Universal!era Choey</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fireworks

**Author's Note:**

> For [SeSa 2005](http://www.juppy.org/santa/by_alpha2005.php): for JackieB, Universal!era Choey.
> 
> Thanks to [ephemera_pop](ephemera_pop.livejournal.com), msktrnanny, and [jewelianna](http://archiveofourown.org/users/jewelianna88/pseuds/jewelianna88) for the beta.

Chris first meets Joey in the men's restroom at Universal. Well, it's not quite like that. It's more of a first sighting, not a meeting, since they don't exchange names, let alone numbers. And it's more like Chris running into this guy, purely accidentally, on his way into the restrooms. He barely has time to think, _'Ooooh, nice'_ and _'Pretty eyes,'_ and _'Too fucking young,'_ before his bladder reminds him that he has exactly ninety seconds to empty it and rush back to the stage. Chris knows he can do it; he's good with challenges. And while he rushes past, he can't help but notice that the boy's been looking back - albeit with a confused, _'I think I know you but I'm not sure'_ expression. Chris thinks, "Huh," and that's all he has time for before he has to rush back to the stage.

The next meeting is more awkward. Chris is doing his shift at the restaurant, hating the world and his sore legs. The hostess informs him that table seven just got seated and he briskly walks over, trying to stretch sore calf muscles.

He starts talking while he's still pulling the order pad from his apron, "Good evening, my name is Chris and I'll be--"

He raises his head and realises that one of the customers is the tall boy with pretty eyes he'd seen at Universal. He trips over his tongue, his spiel trailing off, and the boy gives him a small smile. The boy is seated across a couple who are obviously his parents, between a guy and a girl he resembles enough for them to be siblings. A family outing, then.

When the boy raises his hand, waggling his fingers in greeting, and the mom looks up and glances between Chris and her son.

"Joey, is this a friend of yours?"

Before Joey even has a chance to respond, she turns to Chris, "If you're friends, would you like us to request a different table? You must be uncomfortable serving us."

Chris finds his voice, finally. "Uh, no, it's fine. I can comp you salads and dessert, if you're at my table." He smiles. The boy with pretty eyes has a name now. "Would y'all like to order something to drink?"

By the end of the evening, Chris has a huge tip, the boy's full name (Joey Fatone) and the boy's number, as well as tentative plans to hang out at Universal after their shifts. Chris is definitely interested, but at this point, he won't be broken-hearted if friendship is all he'll get. Chris is in no hurry to find out if Joey checks out boys with the same enthusiasm he'd checked out a well-stacked girl at table twelve.

Two days later, Chris makes his way to the Beetlejuice Graveyard Revue after his shift is done, since Joey won't be finished till a half-hour later. Chris sits down on one of the benches facing the stage and extends his legs, pointing his toes to stretch tired muscles. There's a guy in a wolf suit bouncing around energetically on stage that Chris thinks must be Joey; he'd said something about being a werewolf.

He watches Joey on stage, admiring the enthusiasm with which Joey takes on his role. Joey roars at a little girl, but carefully and not very loudly so as not to scare her into tears, and then makes snuffly-whiney sounds, like a puppy. The girl smiles and pats Joey's furry head, tears long forgotten, and something tightens in Chris's chest.

He smiles and catches Joey watching him. It's the last performance of the day and there are only a few people seated on the benches facing the stage. Joey shuffles over, sniffing air in Chris's general vicinity, and says, "I'll be out in ten minutes." He turns around, hops onto the stage in a fluid, graceful move, and disappears 'backstage.' He comes out less than ten minutes later, face scrubbed clean of stage makeup, and hair wet and combed back, gleaming in moonlight.

Chris says, "Food?"

Joey shakes his head, "Can't, man. I'm still living with my parents; my mom will kill me if I don't have the two helpings of dinner she'd left for me."

Chris playfully slaps the back of his hand against Joey's stomach, feeling hard muscles underneath. "Where does it all go?" He resists the urge to stroke and forcefully takes his hand back.

Joey looks down and pokes at his stomach with his index finger. "Teenage metabolism but don't worry, it'll catch up with me. No way to avoid it; my dad's a big guy."

They walk around the park for a bit, getting free sodas from some cart guy Joey knows, and sitting down on the sidewalk to watch fireworks. It's the most peaceful and content Chris has felt in ages.

***

They develop that into a tradition, getting snacks and drinks and watching closing fireworks whenever Chris works nights on weekends, which isn't too frequent because tips at the restaurant are better in the evening, so most of Chris's Universal shifts are during the day. He does, however, try to spend at least two or three evenings a week with Joey, for the sake of tradition - even though tradition is a very big word for something that's only been going on for a few weeks. Chris tries to be truthful with himself. These outings with Joey are something he works hard to make happen - between his shifts at the park and back-breaking shifts at the restaurant, he should be using all of his six hours of free time to catch up on sleep, not flirt with this Italian Stallion. He brushes those thoughts aside and reminds himself that, if nothing else, flirting is good for his mental health, even if it goes nowhere.

One evening, about three weeks after they first met, Joey buys them both bottles of iced tea, flavoured with lemon and sweetened with honey, and leads Chris away from the sidewalk and up onto a man-made hill behind one of the sets. When the last sparkler explodes in the dark sky, Joey leans over, putting his hand on Chris's neck, and pulls him forward... and the next thing Chris knows they're kissing, Joey's lips firm and mouth tasting of sweetness and lemon.

When Chris gets over his shock, he tangles his fingers in the hair at the back of Joey's head, tilts him for a better angle and dives in. Joey stills for a millisecond, then reciprocates, sliding his hand from Chris's neck to Chris's jaw, rubbing at the stubble, massaging the hinge under Chris's ear, pulling gently on Chris's hoop earring.

When Joey's hand slides down Chris's chest though, Chris catches his fingers and pulls away. Joey's lips are swollen and shiny and for a moment, Chris can't focus on anything else, can't look anywhere else. He leans in for a quick peck, and Joey's lips are parting already, drawing him in, and it takes all of Chris's willpower to break the kiss and pull away.

Joey licks his lips, thumb of his free hand wiping at the corner of his mouth, and Chris has to close his eyes to reign in his self-control.

"We can't, Joey," he says, and his voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper.

"Why not?" Chris opens his eyes and Joey's staring at his mouth. Chris smiles, ducks his head to catch Joey's gaze.

Chris wonders what to say and settles on truth, "Because I'm working two jobs right now, and I don't have the time to date. I don't have time for romance and flowers."

Joey smiles, "I'm not a chick, Chris - I don't need flowers and chocolate. I can do casual."

Chris levels him a look, "You're eighteen."

"And what a great time to sow my wild oats," Joey points out reasonably.

Chris rolls his eyes; who says that any more? "Casual? No strings attached, no commitments, just a hook-up now and then?" He pushes, thrusting his fingers into his messy hair, trying to comb it away from his face and make it behave. "God, what am I saying?" Chris fists his hands in his hair, "you're a baby, you're still a teenager! I can't mess you up like that; you'll grow up all wrong and blame me for all your fuck-ups when you're in therapy ten years down the road!"

Joey laughs, his teeth flashing shiny-bright in the dimness of the night, and leans in for a quick kiss that ends with him nipping on Chris's lower lip. He pushes himself to his feet, offering a hand to pull Chris up.

"God, you're annoying. I like you, I don't want a relationship but I do really want to get in your pants, okay? Only not tonight because I promised Mom I'll be home for dinner, like every night. But sometime soon, you should show me your place." Joey leans in for another kiss and for some reason, Chris gets an insane notion that he should be objecting to Joey's easy acceptance of their newly-established fuck-buddy status. He puts three of his fingers against Joey's lips when Joey's mouth is within kissing distance of his. He regrets it immediately.

Joey wraps his warm hand around Chris's wrist, holding Chris's fingers against his mouth, kissing each fingertip individually. Then, he lowers Chris's hand and goes for his mouth, and Chris has no defences left. He tangles his tongue with Joey's, grasping at Joey's shirt, fistfuls of body-warmed cotton clutched in his fingers, Joey's callused fingers slowly creeping up Chris's back underneath his t-shirt, then sliding down the groove of Chris's spine. Chris wonders how hard the ground would be if they decided to have sex right there and then. Joey makes a needy-sounding noise, and Chris tears himself away, panting and licking his lips, tasting Joey and want.

"Right, Fatone. You're going home to your parents. Now. And I'm going home to a cold shower."

Joey flashes Chris another smile. His chest is heaving with deep breaths he's taking, but he's already regaining his composure, leering at Chris and eyeing him up and down. He waggles his eyebrows comically, "Call me, okay?"

***

Chris means to call the next day to tell Joey when his next Universal shift is, but four servers at the restaurant come down with horrific plague from hell and Chris has to help out covering their shifts. It's not like he minds the extra money, exactly, but it's not like he has any extra hours to spare, either. Finally, his big break comes in the form of floor manager, who catches him as he's preparing to clock out for the night.

Chris squeezes his eyes tightly shut, hoping the gritty feeling will go away, and that is when the floor manager puts a hand on his shoulder, rubbing lightly.

"Hey, Kirkpatrick, you look like hell. You feeling okay?"

Chris looks at her, tries a wan smile. "I'm fine."

"I have a present for you. Well, sort of. I order you not to come in tomorrow--"

When Chris opens his mouth to interrupt, she raises her hand, asking him silently to let her finish, "I know why you work so hard, so you'll be taking a fully-paid sick day; workman's comp if you will. Take a day off; try to not look quite so green when you come in for your next shift. The green doesn't suit you, and it scares the customers away."

Chris gapes for a few moments, then says, "Thanks."

He walks out into the dining area to make the last sweep of his tables when he hears someone calling his name. He turns around and it's Joey, looking cheery and awake at midnight. When Chris reaches him, Joey smiles at the hostess and says, "Why thank you kindly, I will." Then he turns to Chris.

Chris says, "What are you doing here so late?"

Joey shrugs, "Haven't seen you in a while, wanted to see if you're still alive. I asked Steve to drop me off."

Chris waves at the hostess and his coworkers as he leaves, and pulls on Joey's sleeve. "Come on, I'll give you a ride home."

When they get into Chris's very ancient but, thankfully, still running car, Joey leans over, and Chris meets him halfway and then, there are lips sliding against lips and Joey's tongue is in Chris's mouth and one of them moans and Chris thinks it might be him. He'd missed this, he thinks, even though he only had it once, and he needs it.

When they finally part, pulling away but still sharing air, breathing against each other's mouths, Joey says, "I'd rather go home with you."

Chris doesn't even bother putting up a fight. He's also very glad to have a mandatory day off tomorrow. "Your mom knows you won't be coming home tonight?" he asks, and Joey nods.

While on the road, Chris tries to figure out when was the last time he'd changed the sheets and cleaned the apartment. Thankfully, his memories all point to _'less than a week,'_ which should be good enough. Chris would be a slob, except his place is too spare to be messed up too badly. And if there's a sock or pair of boxers loose on the floor... well, Joey's not there to be impressed, just to get laid.

Chris doesn't have a bed frame - he has a mattress tucked into the corner of the room and topped with a thick futon mattress; Chris inherited both from a nice, elderly lady who used to live in his apartment before him. For some reason, she didn't take those or a few other pieces of furniture with her when she moved out. Chris wonders sometimes if she'd taken one look at him and felt pity, but he's grateful regardless.

And now, his makeshift bed is suddenly looking much better than it ever has. Joey's sprawled naked on Chris's dark-blue sheets, hands fisted in the pillow on either side of his head as Chris nibbles on Joey's hip. Joey's cock is thick and full, and Chris takes pity on him and, after lifting the cock up and licking the trails of pre-cum off Joey's stomach, takes Joey into his mouth. Joey makes a whimpery sort of sound, his thighs tensing, arms jumping.

Chris hollows his cheeks, flicks his tongue over the head, adjusting to the weight and taste of Joey's dick in his mouth, then pulls off.

"You can touch me, you know," he tells Joey, who's got his eyes squeezed shut and is panting in tiny, little breaths.

Instead of replying, Joey unclenches his fingers from the pillowcase and scrabbles to gain purchase on Chris's sweat-slicked shoulders, sliding his hands up until they're buried in Chris's hair. Chris goes back to the blowjob at hand, taking Joey further into his mouth with every bob of his head, and he doesn't even get to try deep-throating before Joey's grunting and shooting in Chris's mouth. Chris pulls back, so as not to choke, and starts swallowing. Then, he pulls off and shifts, straddling Joey's legs and looking at his handiwork.

Joey's flushed from the waist all the way up. Beads of sweat hang off his sweat-soaked hair and maybe even his eyelashes had sweated. His skin is slick and shiny and his stomach muscles contract with every breath he takes, as if he's trying to show off his six-pack.

Finally, Joey opens his eyes and looks at Chris languorously. "Your turn now. Where are my jeans? I brought stuff, just in case."

Chris cocks his head and strokes his fingers up and down Joey's left thigh. "Just in case of what? You think I get laid so little I might not have supplies? Or that I'm a total slut and might've run out?"

Joey shrugs, "Just in case. Now get off me so that I can get you off."

Chris bursts out laughing, "That's a fucking awful line."

Joey smiles and arches his hips, rolling them in a circular and not-at-all subtle motion. Chris stretches out on top of Joey, chest to chest, and leans in to kiss him. When Joey seems sufficiently caught in the kiss, Chris reaches down between mattresses, groping blindly, and gets a condom. It's no easy task, because Joey's a fantastic kisser, complete with tiny little noises and nibbles and roaming hands, and there is a moment (or two or three) when Chris completely blanks out on what he's doing with his hand and why it's not anywhere near Joey's skin.

He doesn't remember for a second where he'd stashed the lube. There's a moment of panic, then a moment of clarity, and then he's triumphantly brandishing both the condom and the lube, breaking off the kiss and sitting back, scooting until he's perched on Joey's groin, with Joey's dick, now newly interested in the occurring events, nestled against Chris's ass.

Except they're not going to be doing this today. Chris slides off Joey and to the side, pushing at him to get him to turn over. Joey does so willingly, his ass lily-white against the golden tan of the rest of his body, taut and round and absolutely inviting-looking, especially when Joey parts his legs and looks over his shoulder.

"Hint-hint!"

Chris tries to be slow and gentle but has to settle for fast and gentle, because as soon as he slides two fingers in, Joey starts moving, fucking himself on Chris's fingers, grunting harshly between pants, "Fucking get on with it."

Chris does, sliding in slowly, until Joey raises his hips and pushes back. Finally getting the message, Chris sets a fast pace, and for the next few minutes, sounds of harsh panting and flesh slapping on flesh fill his ears. And then, he can't hear anything but his own blood rushing in his ears and he's shuddering and coming, fingers clenching on Joey's hips so hard he can feel them cramping, and he figures Joey will have bruises tomorrow. Joey's gotten a hand under his hips, jerking himself off frantically, and then he's groaning and coming, too, rolling them both away from the wet spot.

They lie on their backs, side by side, calming down, when Joey says, "That was good. That was fucking fantastic."

Chris rolls his head to look at Joey sideways, "Yeah?"

Joey laughs, throwing his arm over his face, "Oh yeah. Fuck, I'll be all bruised and sore tomorrow but so fucking worth it."

***

They're good - they're golden - for two months. But, like all of Chris's relationships, even casual and buddy-fucking ones, this one doesn't last. Chris's schedule finally catches up with him, even with his four formerly diseased coworkers returned to the fold, and between Universal, and the restaurant, and his mom's warning that he'll work himself into early death if he doesn't start taking care of himself, there's just not enough time to hang out with Joey.

After a second or third phone call when Chris has to regretfully cancel their plans, Joey asks, "Are you trying to --? Well, we can't break up, but. Do you want to stop?"

Chris takes a deep breath and says, "You're the best sex I've ever had. But I don't think I have time even for casual right now. I'm sorry."

There's a long silence on the other end of the line and Chris starts wondering if Joey's still there, when Joey says, "All right, then. Bye." He hangs up without waiting for Chris to say 'bye' back.

The park is big enough, and Joey and Chris work far enough apart that getting together for their traditional evenings was always something they had to work for, agreeing in advance on a meeting spot halfway between their stages. Now that they're apparently not even talking, it takes no effort on Chris's part to avoid seeing Joey.

The next time Chris sees Joey is at the restaurant. Chris is in the kitchen, staring out the little window in the revolving door, waiting to pick up his orders. Joey's seated at a table with a pretty girl with long curly hair, in someone else's section. They're laughing, and holding hands, and sharing a dessert, spoons dipping simultaneously into pools of ice-cream and wrestling playfully before Joey does the chivalrous thing and lets the girl have her spoonful of choice. At one point, Joey raises his head, as if aware that he's being watched, but he never looks up high enough, or far enough, to notice Chris.

A few weeks later, and Chris has pushed Joey into the back of his mind. Joey wasn't a mistake, and Chris tries to not have regrets, but he doesn't have the time to process and analyse right now, because Chris has 'A Plan' and he needs all his wits about him to carry it out.

***

When Chris decides that he wants to try putting together a vocal group, he doesn't tell anyone but his mom. Getting a group together is no easy task, but Chris knows he has to try. He'd heard through the grapevine that now's the time to make it happen, and with his finances in the black, at least for now, he can afford to slightly cut back his working hours and try this out. New Kids had made it so big, and when Chris's asked for advice, Chris's mom, though speaking in adages and clichés, everything from _'striking the iron while it's hot'_ to _'you won't know till you try,'_ still had a point: Chris is going to do it because he'll regret it if he doesn't.

Chris looks through his address book, leafing through the pages, trying to find someone he knows who can sing and dance or be a quick study for one or the other. He flips a couple more pages, and sees a name, _'J. Timberlake.'_ Five minutes later, he's hanging up the phone, having gotten Justin's enthusiastic, 'That's cool!' at the suggestion that they meet up, soon. Chris finds it slightly troubling that Justin agrees to meet him without asking for a good reason - Justin can't possibly remember Chris that well from the auditions - and that Justin's mother doesn't give him third degree over the phone about his motives for wanting to hang out with a kid ten years younger than him.

On the other hand, don't look a gift horse in the mouth, because Justin had said he knew someone who'd be absolutely perfect for the group, so 'soon' turns out to be that weekend, because it's the only time Justin and his friend can both make it. Chris doesn't have the weekend free, but he swaps some shifts, and then he's got a night off.

When they finally meet up in the parking lot in Disney Village, Justin introduces his friend. His name is JC and he was on MMC with Justin. JC is taller than Chris, with dorky hair, a big nose, pretty blue-grey eyes, and a dorky but sweet smile. JC's hand-shake is firm, and he puts a protective hand on Justin's shoulder while doing so. Chris gives him his nicest, most sincere smile and thinks that now he understands why Justin's mom was so complacent about Justin meeting up with Chris.

Chris says he'd been planning on them going to McDonald's or something to talk, but Justin whines about never going out any more, and how he used to have so much fun when he was still on MMC and couldn't they sneak him into a cool club or something?

Instead of sneaking Justin anywhere, much to Justin's chagrin, they decide to go to the Bahama Beach Club, a dance place at Pleasure Island, because Chris knows a guy, and he'll let Justin in. They all get sodas and claim the corner table furthest away from the dance floor. Chris twirls his straw mindlessly in his glass and gathers his thoughts. He hadn't told Justin much beyond _"I want to put together a vocal group."_

Justin broods in the corner, hitting the table leg with his feet from time to time, and Chris is just about to kick him under the table when he hears a loud and excited, 'HEY!' and the next thing he knows, JC is twisting up and out of his seat, kissing someone with a loud smack on the mouth.

When JC pulls away, Chris realises that the person he'd kissed is Joey. Joey's smiling, wiping delicately at the corner of his mouth with his thumb, ruffling JC's hair with the other hand. JC opens his mouth, presumably for introductions, and Joey raises a hand, the one not around JC's shoulders, to wave at Chris. Chris, who hasn't seen Joey in seven weeks. And three days. But who's counting?

JC frowns in confusion, then re-introduces Justin with, "You remember the squirt, right?"

Joey leans over, ruffling Justin's hair over Justin's very loud protests, then turns back to JC to explain, "Chris and I know each other from Universal."

JC looks from Chris to Joey to Chris again, but before he can say anything, Chris interrupts him and asks Joey, "Want to join us?" Chris means the table, for now, but he already realises he'll be asking Joey to join the group, as well. Chris knows that Joey sings; Chris heard Joey sing. Joey has a beautiful, strong voice and if Chris were still sleeping with him, Joey would've been the first person Chris called. As it is, however...

Chris wonders for a moment what he's doing but then, he realises that however things are with Joey, if they hit it big - when they hit it big - Joey's definitely one of the people with whom Chris would want to share the success. This isn't about Chris; it's about what will be good for the group.

Joey excuses himself to go tell his group he's ditching them and while he's gone, Chris jerks his chin in the direction Joey'd disappeared to and says to JC and Justin, "Well, what do you think?"

Justin beams, "Joey's cool. He'd be cooler if he stopped calling me 'kid' but he's cool."

JC smiles, as well, "Joey's one of the first people I met when we moved to Orlando and he's a good friend. But it's your group, Chris. Your decision."

So, when Joey comes back, hip-checking JC and sliding into booth next to him, Chris blurts out, "Wanna be in our singing group?"

Joey's face registers surprise and disbelief, and Chris has a feeling neither of them have to do with the invitation so much as the source of invitation. Chris shrugs but all he comes up with is a lame excuse, "You have a good voice. We need good voices. It's a vocal harmony group."

Joey schools his features, but something in his expression tells Chris they're long overdue for The Talk. Chris sort of feels that he should be the one to say something first; he does owe Joey an apology. But The Talk isn't something he wants to have an audience for, so Chris focuses on the topic at hand.

"It'll be five guys, like, five-part harmony, so it'd sound cool when we perform a cappella. We just need a fifth, and then we'll record some demos, shop around, see if we can get anywhere. I mean, if we can't then, oh well. We tried. But I think something great will come of it."

Justin, Joey and JC all look at each other and say in unison, as if they'd rehearsed it, "I know a guy."

Justin has a curfew that is much later than for most kids his age, but he's still got one, so he leaves with JC, who'll drive him home. Chris gets handshakes, Joey gets affectionate hugs, and they're gone, leaving Chris and Joey alone in the booth in uncomfortable silence.

"So--" they both start simultaneously and then both make the same motion the other should go first.

Chris accepts graciously and says, "He do that a lot? JC? Kissing you on the mouth and all?" He tries to make his voice light, since sounding jealous would be a _bad_ idea but to his ears, he sounds wistful and envious, instead.

"He's very affectionate," Joey says, rubbing at his lower lip and smiling.

Chris wishes he could say something, anything, but he doesn't even begin to know how to proceed, so what he says is, "I'll drive you home."

When they're in the car, Chris asks, "What were you about to say? In the club?"

Joey makes a 'never mind' gesture, and says, "It wasn't important. I forget."

The drive to Joey's house is awkward. Joey reaches out to fiddle with the radio dial, and Chris doesn't remind him that it's pointless because it's been broken for as long as Chris has had the car. With nothing to fill in the silence, Chris wracks his brain for something to say to make small talk when Joey offers, "I like this group idea."

"Thanks. We still need to get together and try singing something; we might all sound good separately but put us all together and we might sound like dying cats or something."

They lapse into silence again. Chris glances sideways at Joey's profile, lit by street lights and passing cars, his strong jaw and aquiline nose and the glint of his hoop earring.

"Tell me about this guy you know? The fifth one?"

Joey turns to look at Chris so suddenly Chris could swear he hears something snap.

"Jason? He's a very low baritone; he'll round out the sound really nicely. JC's got a really good voice, he's got an amazing range, and his voice is strong, too. He looks scrawny but his lung capacity is huge. And you and Justin are tenors, right? So, we need the lower registers and Jason can get pretty low."

Chris is about to say something else but they're at the Fatones's house already and he doesn't have to. Joey's unbuckling and reaching for the door handle, and then he pauses. "I'm glad you're doing this. It's nice to be working with people you know and already like."

Joey starts getting out and when he's halfway out the car, Chris blurts out, "I'm sorry. For... everything. I didn't mean for it to turn out like that."

Joey sits back down, looks back at Chris, "I've missed you. I miss our fireworks. And the sex. God, the sex was fucking awesome."

Chris switches off the ignition. Maybe they're having The Talk now. He smiles, "Yeah. So, sorry about all of that. And... me. Me, too."

Joey turns to fully face Chris, his bright smile gleaming in the dark of the car. "Yeah? JC said he thought he saw you looking; he's got a good eye for that."

Chris laughs, "I can't help it; I've seen you naked."

Joey cups Chris's face in his hands and whispers, "I have an idea. I think it's a very good idea. Our problem before was your lack of spare time. I think once we get a record deal and you quit your jobs, we'll have time. And we should start up again. If, you know, you want to."

Chris can't resist running the back of his hand over Joey's cheek, stubble scratchy against his fingers. "I don't think we'll have the time when we have a record deal. We'll be busy... recording and stuff."

"We'll find the time," Joey says decisively, "if we want. And, who knows? Maybe you'll even have time for more than casual."

"Maybe," Chris allows. "You should go inside. Your dad's probably watching us through the curtains and getting ready to come out and shoot me or something."

"He'll just tell Steve to beat you up. I won't let him." Joey declares.

And then he leans in and it's just like old times, Chris meeting him halfway and Joey's taste is so familiar yet not, and Chris savours every bit of it. Chris wraps his arm around Joey's shoulders, pulling him closer, and sighs when Joey slides his hand back to Chris's neck, massaging tense muscles.

Joey's the one who breaks off the kiss, pulling back and wiping his lower lip with his thumb. "I should go in. Call me?"

When Chris opens his mouth to reply, Joey clarifies, "About the group."

"Okay," Chris nods.

He watches Joey get out of the car and waits until the front door had shut behind Joey's back before starting up the car again and driving home.

***

Four months later, Chris rolls over and groans when his roaming hand encounters empty space. It's not fair; not only is it morning but he's left without his personal heater, as well. He hates it when Joey leaves in the middle of the night, before Chris is even awake. It's not like Lynn doesn't know Joey sometimes spends the night, and it's not like the rest of the guys don't know that Joey's doesn't just 'sleep over.' There's no need for all this sneaking around.

Lou doesn't know anything, because there's no need for him to know anything, and it's not like he'd roll up in the middle of the night, either. And during the day, Joey has to be here, anyway, for rehearsals and such. Chris thinks it's stupid that Joey insists on still staying with his parents; between the sneaking out every night and rehearsing all day at the house, he doesn't spend more than three hours at home, anyway.

Picking up a t-shirt (decidedly not his) and underwear (maybe - no, most probably - his) off the floor, he rummages in the dresser until he finds a pair of Joey's warm-up pants (because he doesn't need Lynn to see him in his boxers) and pads barefoot into the kitchen, spying a hot-pink Post-It in the middle of the kitchen table.

 _Gone to get donuts. Sorry for no coffee._

"Of course," Chris mutters sourly. "He wants donuts, and I don't even get coffee." Reaching into the cupboards for the can of coffee grounds, he starts the coffee-maker and sits down on one of the stools to watch the coffee drip. A millisecond later, he's up again.

"Okay, maybe sitting down after last night wasn't such a good idea. And God, look at me, talking to myself!"

"It's the first sign of senility!" Joey informs him cheerfully, walking through the door and depositing a large bag of donuts on the table, a large greasy spot spreading over one side of the bag. "I knew you were getting old when you fell asleep last night."

"My ass hurts," Chris tells him accusingly, enunciating each word. "Ass. Hurts." He adds balefully, "And you didn't make any coffee." He sniffs mournfully and takes out a mug from the cupboard as the coffee-maker gurgles and hisses for the last time, announcing that the Nectar of the Gods was ready.

Chris manages only one tiny little sip before Joey firmly takes the coffee away, and cups Chris's ass with both hands, kneading and squeezing, lifting Chris up on his tiptoes and leaning down for a kiss. Joey rebuffs Chris's efforts to slip his tongue, keeping the kiss light and teasing, nibbling and nipping at Chris's lips playfully. Chris smiles into the kiss, parting his lips, kissing back... until he remembers that his ass hurts _and_ he had to make his own coffee this morning. He plants a firm hand in the middle of Joey's (very nice, broad, and finely toned) chest and pushes him off and back.

"No. No kiss."

"What?" Joey's frowning and that makes Chris want to kiss that furrow between Joey's eyebrows, and that's just not fair. Not getting his coffee first thing in the morning is bad.

Joey sidles up next to him, tentatively wrapping his arms around Chris's waist and dropping his head to Chris's shoulder.

"Chris. Chriiiiiiiis. Christopher. Stop being a meanie, and kiss your boyfriend good morning. I'm sorry about lack of coffee; I didn't expect you to be up before I got back."

"You left a note," Chris points out accusingly.

"Well, yes. But I was hoping I'd get back before you saw it. And why does your ass hurt? You fucked _me_ last night."

"You. Pinched. Me," Chris says, glaring.

Joey's face splits into a huge smile. "Why, yes, Master Chris, yes I did," he says with broad Southern accent he must've picked up from Lance.

Chris reaches behind Joey and, with a smile, gleefully returns the favour. When he feels Chris pinching him, Joey yelps and jumps, startled, looking at Chris balefully.

Chris is just about to offer to kiss it better when he hears thudding footsteps on the stairs, the rest of the guys descending, zombie-like, for their caffeine fix to start the day.

"Kiss it better later," he whispers at Joey.

"Promise?"

"Promise."


End file.
